Horcruxex
by Walter the Wizard
Summary: Horace Slughorn had a good reason to withhold his memory about Horcruxes, as Harry and Dumbledore find out…


**Author: **Walter O'Dim

**Title: **Horcruxex

**Category:** Humor/PWP  
**Rating:** M  
**Summary:** Horace Slughorn had a good reason to withhold his memory about Horcruxes, as Harry and Dumbledore find out…  
**Disclaimer: **I don't own the copyrights to Harry Potter (which is a pity; I could use the money)

"_And now_," _said Dumbledore, placing the stone basin upon the desk and emptying the contents of the bottle into it_. "_Now, at last, we shall see. Harry, quickly_ . . ."

Once again, Harry and Dumbledore watched the scene that had taken place in Slughorn's office many years before, only this time it was unedited by the Potions master. Once again, Voldemort was saying -

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away. . . ."

"Sir, I wondered what you know about. . . about Horcruxes? "

Slughorn stared at Voldemort for a few moments, then chuckled, waving a finger at him.

"Tom, Tom, as much as I like you, this is something I can't talk to you about. It's very Dark magic, and a banned subject here at Hogwarts. Dumbledore would skin me alive if he found out, he's particularly fierce about it…I understand your curiosity, Tom, but I just can't help you here."

"I promise I will not tell anyone about our conversation, sir," Voldemort said earnestly. "And you don't have to go into detail, I just want a general idea – just to understand the term, you know."

Slughorn hesitated, tracing one of his chins with his finger and looking at Voldemort appraisingly.

"Sorry, Tom," he said finally, "but the knowldege is just too dangerous, and I'm afraid you might – ah – do something rash if given access to it. Not that I think you foolish or anything like that," he added hastily, as Voldemort's face had hardened at his words, "but this kind of thing just requires a more…mature approach than that of a sixteen-year-old, however gifted."

"Is this your final word, sir?" asked Voldemort after a few seconds' pause.

"Yes, it is, Tom," said Slughorn in a kind, but firm voice, "and I would prefer it if you didn't bring up the subject either with me, or with anyone else in the future. Now, it's really time for you to go to bed."

But instead of leaving, Voldemort did something very shocking. Pulling out his wand, he passed its tip down the front of his robes, cutting it neatly in two; the next second, Voldemort's robes slid softly off of his shoulders and down onto the floor, leaving him naked from the waist up. To say that his torso was beautifully shaped would be a gross understatement.

"What in the name of Merlin are you doing, Tom?" cried Slughorn, taking a step back and staring at Voldemort, wide-eyed.

"I know what you want, Professor," said Voldemort, now taking off his shoes. "I see how you sometimes look at me. I can feel your eyes all over me when my back is turned. And I've heard some interesting rumours about you, too…" Throwing his shoes aside, Voldemort advanced, barefoot, at Professor Slughorn, who retreated toward the wall, his face covered with droplets of sweat. "I am offering you a deal. I give you what you want…and you tell me everything you know abut Horcruxes."

"I…I don't know what you're talking about," mumbled Slughorn, licking his lips. "I want you to get dressed at once and – and -"

Slughorn's voice trailed away as he bumped into the wall. He seemed transfixed by Voldemort's stare; the young man's gleaming dark eyes seemed bottomless. There was laughter in them, and provocation, and passion, and, lurking behind everything, a piercing, deadly cold. It was frightening, but it was enticing as well. To his horror, Harry felt his cock come to life, straining his pants. "This is sick!" he thought in panic, trying to suppress this sudden madness. "This is _Voldemort_, for crying out loud! The man who killed my parents!" Harry's penis, however, did not seem to find those arguments convincing, as it was swelling more and more with each second. Harry didn't think he'd ever had such a hardon before – except, maybe, on the occasion when he saw Bill Weasley shagging Fleur right in the garden of the Burrow. The pressure in his pants was now growing painful. Casting Dumbledore a sideways glance to make sure he wasn't looking in his direction, Harry surreptitiously adjusted the lump in his groin.

In the meantime, Voldemort had reached Slughorn, pressing his body against the Professor's and laying his hands on the latter's shoulders. Slughorn was shivering badly, his breath coming in jerky gasps, his face now positively running with sweat. With an obscene smile, Voldemort bent his face down to Slughorn's and slowly licked it like one would an ice-cream. Slughorn whimpered.

"Uh, Professor, are you sure we have to watch this?" Harry heard himself saying. His brow was running with sweat just like Slughorn's, and his mouth felt very dry.

"What - ? Oh, yes, I'm afraid we do, Harry," said Dumbledore in a somewhat unsteady voice. Harry saw him take out a handkerchief and wipe his forehead, his eyes never leaving the scene unfolding in front of them. "This memory is very important."

Voldemort was now French-kissing the poor Potions master, his right hand sliding down until it reached Slughorn's groin. Slughorn gasped.

"So," breathed Voldemort in his ear, massaging the Professor's hardon, "what exactly is a Horcrux?"

"It is…an object…ooh…where a…oh, God…a person has concealed part…ummm…of their soul," groaned Slughorn.

"Very good," said Voldemort, fumbling with Slughorn's fly as Slughorn, unable to control himself any longer, grabbed his buttocks. "But how exactly does that work?"

"Well, you have to – ooh – split your soul and – ahhh – encase the torn portion in – oh, there, right there – in the object of choice. In this way – mmm – even if your body – oh, yes, yes! – is destroyed, you won't – owww - die."

"How interesting," murmured Voldemort, who now had a hold of Slughorn's cock and was tugging at it. "And how does one split his soul?"

"Oh, Tom," moaned Slughorn, sliding his pudgy hands up and down Voldemort's smooth back, "I'm really not supposed to – arrgh – tell you."

"Then maybe this'll help," said Voldemort, undoing his own fly and letting his pants fall down, revealing his body in its full magnificence. Harry heard a groan from his left and, looking in that direction, he saw a very red-faced Dumbledore swaying slightly on the spot and gaping at his former pupil. Not that there wasn't anything worth gaping at, thought Harry, as he, too, returned his gaze to Voldemort, his cock positively crying for release.

"So?" prompted Voldemort as Slughorn placed his trembling hands on his smooth, tight arse.

"All right," gasped Slughorn, "to split – oh, oh, oh! – to split your soul, you have to – AHHH! – commit murder."

"And then?" now Voldemort seemed really aroused, too. His cock, at any rate, was becoming erect, and it was quite a sight to behold. Now it was Harry's turn to moan.

"Tom – please -"

Voldemort sank to his knees and took Slughorn in his mouth. The Potions master dug his hands in Voldemort's hair with a cry, his eyes popping out of their sockets. He looked quite comical, but for Harry and Dumbledore the whole thing was not a laughing matter. Horniness and laughter are mutual enemies, and right now, horniness was winning the battle.

"So?" said Voldemort, interrupting the blowjob and looking expectantly up at Slughorn.

"Then you encase the torn portion – there's a spell, but I don't know it, I swear," groaned the Potions master. "Please, Tom, go on, I beg you -"

Voldemort resumed his sucking, but withdrew his mouth again after a minute.

"Can you only do it once?" he asked. "Or can it be done several times, for instance, seven, the most powerful magical number - ?"

"SEVEN!" exclaimed Slughorn as he came all over Voldemort's face. "Ohh, Tom, isn't one murder bad enough?"

"But then it can be done?" Voldemort asked urgently, blinking sperm out of his eyes.

"Yes, yes, it can be done, now let us please drop the subject," groaned Slughorn, sliding down the wall onto the floor.

"Thank you, sir," said Voldemort, getting to his feet. Leaving the wasted Potions master to sit on the floor, he went to retrieve his wand.

"Er – I think that will do, Harry," said Dumbledore in a weak voice. He tried to take hold of Harry's elbow, but his legs gave way, and he collapsed onto the boy instead. Then they were hurtling through nothingness, and the next thing he knew, Harry was lying on the floor of the Headmaster's study with Dumbledore on top of him. The feel of another human body against his was the last straw for Harry, and he came in his pants, Dumbledore following suit a split second later. For a couple of minutes they just lay there, catching their breath.

"Well," Dumbledore said finally, getting to his feet and helping Harry to do the same, "that certainly confirms what I have long suspected."

"What, that Voldemort made seven Horcruxes, and that's why he can't be killed?"

"No," the Headmaster said earnestly. "That Tom Riddle had the most gorgeous body imaginable."

THE END


End file.
